“I already won. I got parents who wanted me.”
Julian took a deep breath.
“I’m going to tell Marianne to close it out,” he said. “If there’s a way to send it to charity without their names everywhere, great. If not, I walk.”
“That’s a lot to walk away from,” I said.
He gave me a small, tired smile.
“I already won,” he said. “I got parents who wanted me.”
“I won’t keep you in the dark anymore.”
After dinner, he helped wash dishes, like always. He picked up the box from the coffee table.
“I’ll keep this,” he said. “Figure out what needs to be done. But I won’t keep you in the dark anymore.”
At the door, he hugged us both.
“You know,” he said, “family isn’t who shares your DNA. It’s who opens the door when you’re freezing.”
I used to think I failed at motherhood because my body didn’t cooperate.
I watched him drive away and thought about the night we found him. The tiny boy in the basket, the sound of his thin cry, Harold’s shaking hands, and my pounding heart.
I used to think I failed at motherhood because my body didn’t cooperate.
